


if you can't take the heat (get out of the kitchen)

by princessoftheworlds



Series: it's (not) all an act [3]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dinner, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26520370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds
Summary: Jack and Ianto have a dry run as "a couple" while having dinner with Gwen and Rhys.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: it's (not) all an act [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927099
Comments: 16
Kudos: 54





	if you can't take the heat (get out of the kitchen)

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy! (I have been enabled into posting this rn.)

“Come over for dinner tonight,” Gwen calls to say two weeks after Jack has Ianto over at his apartment. They’ve been meeting regularly every other few days, and Jack thinks he knows the other man’s backstory like the back of his hand - Ianto likes cooking but hates vegetables; he nerds out over James Bond, Star Wars, and Indiana Jones mostly; like Jack, he also enjoys history and classic films. Yet Jack knows that they’re both holding much of themselves back from each other, that so much still goes unsaid. “You and Ianto. Consider it a double date.”

“Am I speaking to Gwen, my agent, or Gwen, my friend?” asks a thoroughly-amused Jack, turning down the volume on the superhero show he’d been distractedly watching when his phone rang. “Besides, Ianto and I aren’t even actually ‘dating’ yet.”

Gwen chuckles lightly. “It’s a friendly meeting, not a business detail. This can be a practice run; we can see how well you and Ianto hold up as a couple.” 

“You don’t even know if I’ve free,” points out Jack, though he already knows his only plans for tonight were to sit on the couch and continue watching television. To switch up the monotony, he was even planning to order Indian takeout. 

“I have access to your Google calendar,” she replies, sighing. Jack can just picture her rubbing the bridge of her nose. “I swear to… if you hadn’t fired your last three personal assistants-”

Jack frowns. “It’s not my fault they were so nagging and harsh.”

“Just because someone’s trying to get you somewhere on time doesn’t mean they’re nagging and harsh, Jack!” says Gwen, and he can tell there’s so much else she’s biting back. “It’s fine. Don’t worry. Ianto’s an organized man. We’ll have him to keep you on track for the next few months, and then when you finally get the role and get to set for filming, I’ll scour the bloody country for the best PA I can find.”

He’s not looking forward to that. “Fine,” he says finally to Gwen. “We can talk about this later. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Seven pm,” she replies, sounding smug. “Don’t be late!”

* * *

It’s nearly a quarter to seven when Ianto calls Jack. Jack, carefully slipping his trousers over his hips, nearly trips when his phone begins to buzz suddenly. “Aw, fuck!” he says as his fingers slip over the zipper and button of his trousers. He stumbles out of his closet - ha, ha - and over to the nightstand where his phone sits, still vibrating against the wood, and carefully taps the collect call button. “Hello?”

“Hello to you!” Ianto replies dramatically. “Are you ready yet? I’m waiting outside your building in my car.”

“Uhhh…” Jack chances a glance down to his trousers, back to his closet, and then to the bathroom counter scattered with hair products that he can see through the open door. “I was going to drive myself,” he finishes lamely.

Ianto only hums in response. “You just stepped out of the shower, didn’t you?”

“Just wore my trousers actually,” Jack says, tone light as he tucks his phone under his ear and re-enters his closet. With any other individual, his comment would be followed up by a leering invitation about stripping, but Jack knows better with Ianto; he doesn’t want to ruin this odd working friendship they’d come to have.

“Pity,” says Ianto. “Well, hurry up then. I’ll call Gwen to let her know that we’ll be late.”

“Wait! Don’t call-” Jack tries, but Ianto’s already ended the call. He tosses his phone over to his large bed and groans; he’s certainly going to be hearing it from Gwen later. He really should hurry up.

In record time, Jack buttons up a light blue dress shirt that he tucks into his grey trousers and towel-dries and combs his hair before applying a bit of hair gel. He laces up his brown boots and grabs his wallet, keys, and phone, which he slips into the pocket of his bomber jacket. 

He texts Ianto,  _ I’ll be out in three, _ and takes the elevator to the lobby, nodding to Hugo, the doorman, as he holds open the double doors of Jack’s building. Hugo has a wife and three kids, but he had kind eyes and always smiles when Jack flirts with him

There’s a black Audi parked neatly across the street, and although its darkened windows obscure the driver, Jack already knows it’s Ianto’s car from the one time Ianto dropped him home when he was too drunk to drive and didn’t want to risk exposure by taking a rideshare. Ducking his head, Jack strides across the crowded street until he reaches the passenger’s side of the vehicle, pulls open the door, and slides inside, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Hello,” he says to Ianto.

Ianto does not look impressed. “It’s seven-fifteen,” he states, pointing to the clock on the car’s dashboard.

“I hurried up,” complains Jack, reclining in his seat. He fastens his seatbelt when Ianto shoots him a stern look. “Alright, alright. I’ll be ready earlier next time.” 

“You better be,” Ianto says darkly, but when Jack glances over, there’s a faint smile tugging at his lips. Jack rolls his eyes; despite his insistence on adhering to schedules and staying organized, Ianto can be unpredictable, which is partly why Jack enjoys his company.

Then Jack reaches over and turns the volume dial on the music that had been playing faintly in the background, blasting ABBA and launching them into an argument over whether Dancing Queen is an underrated song.

* * *

“You’re late,” notes Gwen when she opens the door to find Jack beaming at her, Ianto standing close behind. 

“I’ve already gotten the talk from Ianto,” he tells her, barging in to find Rhys busy in the kitchen. “Hey, Rhys.” He waves to the Welshman, who grins at him. In the background, Jack can hear Ianto apologizing heartily to Gwen. Luckily, Gwen doesn’t seem too mad.

“You’re lucky I burnt my first attempt at tonight’s dinner,” calls Rhys jovially. Despite their tumultuous first few meetings, Rhys has really warmed up to him, and although they won’t really ever have much common ground, Jack does enjoy spending time with him, as sparsely as they do so. “Otherwise, you’d be eating your cod cold.”

Jack wrinkles his nose. “There are two things that should definitely  _ never _ be eaten cold,” he says, “and that’s fish and soup.”

“Well, you must have not heard of gazpacho then.” Ianto enters the living room - cozy with plenty of pillows and in muted shades of green - and is followed by Gwen.

“Oh, he has,” says Gwen with a knowing smile. “Refused to taste it the entire time we were in Spain a few years ago.” She and Ianto exchange glances, and Jack bristles, prepared for the incoming onslaught.

Thankfully, he is spared from any further teasing when Rhys calls, “Dinner is ready!” The man himself appears in the entrance of the kitchen, holding a glass dish of buttered and herbed cod in his oven mitt-clad hands. 

Wine poured into their respective glasses, they take their seats around the small dining table, Gwen and Rhys facing Jack and Ianto. The dish sits in the center of the table, surrounded by a smaller plate laden with salad and a bottle of home-made vinaigrette, and Jack’s eyes rove excitedly over the trove of food. He’s already salivating slightly. 

While Gwen works hard managing Jack’s career, Rhys actually owns a prominent restaurant downtown -  _ Cariad,  _ lovingly dedicated to Gwen - where he serves anything from traditional Welsh pub fare to his own twist on Italian. He’s worked up a bit of his own following as a celebrity chef and has made appearances on many cooking shows.

Plus, he sends Jack free food.

“Everything looks lovely,” Ianto says to Rhys, who smiles and thanks him, but when Ianto goes to ladle a piece of fish and sauce onto his plate, he’s stopped by Jack’s hand at his wrist.

“Allow me, sweetheart,” Jack says, just the right amount of condescending and polite to cause Ianto to roll his eyes. He slips the ladle from Ianto’s loose grip and carefully serves him a decent-sized portion of fish before pouring just the right amount of sauce over the food. As a finishing touch, Jack also piles a mountain of salad on the side of the plate, earning a slight scowl from Ianto.

Still, he glances towards Jack and shoots him a grateful if slightly sardonic smile, which Jack returns, feeling the odd flutter in his stomach that he feels every once in a while around Ianto. He wonders if he’s in trouble.

When Jack lifts his head, he finds Gwen eyeing him, something considerate but concerned in her expression, and his smile takes on a bit of an edge before it drops.

“Well, then, Mr. Williams,” Gwen begins sweetly as she turns to her husband. “Are you going to serve me?”

Chuckling, Rhys waits until Jack’s plate is full before portioning the rest of the food between him and Gwen. They begin eating in silence until Jack asks Rhys how everything at the restaurant is going, which launches the Welshman into a hilarious tale about how one of his servers swore that a guest was a Michelin inspector. (Spoiler alert: she wasn’t, but was possibly served one of the best damn meals of her life.)

Then Jack begins a story of his own about getting caught out naked on the balcony of a one-night-stand’s apartment in college when the boyfriend she never told him about came home early. Ianto accidentally chokes on his wine as Jack describes receiving a wolf-whistle from the elderly woman on the street.

“Turns out,” Jack says, rubbing large circles on Ianto’s back as Ianto glares at Jack and sips water, “I was actually her boyfriend’s birthday surprise. He’d wanted a threesome, but the girlfriend got a bit overzealous when she brought me home from the bar. She also declined to mention the threesome part.” He shrugs. “In ordinary circumstances, I would have been up,” - here, he smirks lecherously - “for it, but they clearly had  _ so much _ to talk about already. As soon as I was let back in and managed to put pants on, I high-tailed it out of there. Never saw them again.”

Rhys takes a long sip of his wine. “Harkness, I never know whether to believe even half the shit you come out with,” he tells Jack, whose smirk widens. Gwen, meanwhile, is giggling so hard that her eyes are watering. 

“Imagine how much the paparazzi would pay for a shot of that,” Ianto says quietly but no less deviously, and Gwen pales.

“Thankfully, that will never happen!” Jack reassures her and attempts to change the subject before her mind can wander into that hypothetical horror show.

Eventually, the clinking of forks and knives against plates halts, and the wine bottle runs dry. Gwen offers to bring dessert from the kitchen, and Jack hurries to join her, leaving behind Ianto and Rhys to chat.

“Any news from the studio?” he asks, watching as she pulls a foil-covered tray from the refrigerator. Inquisitively, he reaches a hand to pull back the foil, but she slaps it away. He hisses. A moment later: “About the role of the Captain, I mean.”

Gwen places the tray on the counter and finally rolls back the foil to reveal a creamy-looking tiramisu. Jack’s mouth waters. She quickly pops the tray in the oven before turning back to Jack, shaking her head. “No, nothing yet, sorry.” When his expression falls, she offers a sympathetic smile. “You know studios, Jack. It won’t be automatic. You’ll likely hear something after the premiere when you and Ianto make your first public appearance as a couple. So far all they have to go off of are the rumors we’ve created.”

“I know, I know,” replies Jack, likely sounding impatient. 

She clearly has something else on her mind, however, because her lips twitch and she looks hesitant. Finally, she just comes out and says, “You and Ianto seem friendly.” It sounds conversational, but she watches him hawkishly.

Feeling uncomfortably scrutinized, Jack turns and busies himself with balling the foil up and dropping it in the trash can. “Yes, well,” he murmurs, “isn’t that part of our job? We have to be believable.”

“Oh, you were very believable,” she tells him, expression staying fixed. “Especially for only having known each other two weeks.”

“I guess that means we’re excellent actors,” he tries. Then he sighs. “ _ What _ , Gwen?”

Gwen’s eyes finally soften with concern. “Don’t let yourself get too carried away,” she warns him. “It’s still an act, remember that. This is the one case where your inability to separate business and pleasure could very much blow up in our faces.”

When the oven finally beeps, Gwen pulls the tray out with a pair of oven mitts on her hands. She presses a kiss to Jack’s cheek before leaving him standing there in the kitchen in contemplative silence. 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [here](http://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/) or on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/rajkumarinik). I tweet and reblog mostly Torchwood with occasionally amusing commentary on nonsense. Please come talk to me and tell me if/how much you like my fic or like ask me about it on tumblr; all my schoolwork has become remote now, and I have limited social interaction. And if you have any future ideas for this potential verse or something you'd like to see, drop it in the comments!


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